She had stepped out to the balcony to feel the sun…Sitting in the cubicle makes one lose track of time. And then she saw the construction work happening below. The earth was being piled. She had only learned about piling in her basic civil engineering course…But now, she saw it in action…The brown muddy water which formed rivulets…Mud caked men mixing concrete and pouring it into a vast drum which was connected to the underground by a pipe… The poet in her felt like the earth was crying…in agony…and the molten concrete was being poured into her heart..and pounded..on and on…till she stopped crying and was ready… No wonder they call her “Mother Earth” and not “Father Earth”… she mused to herself and returned back to her dark cubicle…

...Have been doing that quite a bit in the past few days...One of the things I was shy about in my younger days (yep, I am growing older :( ...) was to ask for help....I used to be very shy to ask for even the smallest of favours...Came adulthood and MBA and some rough corporate years and I slowly learned the art of asking for help...and most often got it...But the occasional times I was refused, especially in my personal life, made me miserable...These instances used to rattle me so badly that I have often wondered whether it is worth all that heart ache...that gnawing pain which makes you feel shunned by loved ones.... And then I spent some considerable time pondering about it...and realised that the key is to analyse the situation before asking for help...and this is the analysis I do these days..."If they refuse to help, will I be able to do it myself?" and if the answer is no , then I don't ask for help...because if I can't / won't do it for whatever reason…